


Mondays

by drashian



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Incest, Tentacles, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drashian/pseuds/drashian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've got a case of the Mondays."</p>
<p>Trans man Dave, trans woman Rose, dreamselves, and some interesting genital configuration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mondays

His footsteps were muffled by the dense violet carpet that lined every inch of flooring in the tower, but she immediately turned and looked at him when he reached the doorway. She was hunched over a large tome, no doubt either a grimoire or a giant book of preternatural erotica. Smiling, she stood up, her narrow frame barely filling out the deep purple tunic that swathed her. She brushed nearly white hair away from her eyes and began to walk toward him.

"How are you, Dave?" she said, her hips swinging slightly more than usual, back arched to press small breasts against velvet fabric.

"I've got a case of the Mondays."

"It's been perpetually Monday since we started playing, remember? But of course, that's the problem with being stuck literally inside a game. We have no concept of time. Is it Monday any more? Will it always be Monday? Who knows?"

Dave sighed. "I've still got a case of the Mondays, no matter what day it really is, or even if there is such a thing as a day of the week in our current situation."

Rose sighed happily. "I can fix that, at least, even if I can't come to a definite conclusion as to our philosophical state." She slid her hands over Dave's sides, resting her thumbs on the top of his hip bones, her fingertips reaching around and digging faintly into the flesh on his back. She pulled herself forward and lingered, face only a few inches away, before she leaned in and kissed him. Rubbing one hand up and down the valley of her spine, Dave began to push his other hand under the hem of her tunic. Rose arched her back in response, her mouth opening and her hands grasping frantically at his collar. She moaned and started to pull the both of them toward the heliotrope bed.

"You're already hard," Dave noted as he rubbed one hand forcefully on the crotch of her hose.

"The Ars Goetia always gets me hot," she replied, starting to pull off Dave's shirt. He raised his arms and the garment came off, thrown to the other side of the tower room. His bare chest exposed, Rose curled upward from underneath him and ran her lips across the prominent sternum and U-shaped scar tissue, biting at what flesh she could find on his chest. Both ectotwins were chronically too skinny, though the flux of unfamiliar hormones and the rigours of battle had elicited a somewhat rounder figure in both. Rose traced fingers down tight abs, pushing the waistband of Dave's hose down to reveal the extremely pale but thick and musty hair.

Dave sighed and lay down next to Rose, both of them occupying their hands in the others' groin. Dave reached his other hand up and removed his precious glasses, untangling himself for a moment to place them carefully atop a stack of thick volumes on floral imagery, demonic summonings, and orgasm-happy centenarian magic-wielders. The bed let out a whoosh of air as he fell back onto it and Rose smiled to look into his crimson eyes. Though, as twins, they had both been struck with the same albinism, her eyes had opted for a more violet reflection of electromagnetic waves, she still saw the common character in them.

Dave quickly pushed her tunic off, hooking thumbs under the hollow of her ribcage and sliding around, tracing ribs and vertebrae, to unhook her bra. Her small breasts, barely there even after a year of hormones, fell out and immediately Dave leaned in, suckling them, caressing them, biting them. She threw her head back and moaned, her hands tangling in his white-blond hair. He grinded against her thigh and she cried out, reaching down to take her own hose off if he wouldn't do it himself. She kicked them off, panties as well, and Dave reached to begin working at her. His hand found her genitals and stopped. He started.

"Rose, what the fuck is going on in the Netherlands?" he said, face completely cool but eyes with a twinge of fear.

"This is a dream, brother. I could dream anything up that I wanted, remember? And I happened to want a tentacle." Rose smiled and curled herself around Dave's stiff, wary hand. Her new appendage was inky black and shimmering royal purple, the suckers flushed a lighter violet.

"Yeah, sure," he said, dubiously going back to work on her breasts. "I just wasn't exactly planning on the whole tentacle dynamic," he muttered.

Rose laughed and began pushing Dave's hose off as well, which he assisted in completing. Naked, the two of them rolled around on the bed, kissing and groping, for a long moment, trying to figure out what position would be best, especially with Rose's particular addition.

She ended up straddling Dave, her extraterrestrial genitals poised cautiously over Dave's vulva. He arched and moaned as she maneuvered over his clit and entered him, slowly, careful not to apply too much pressure. "I guess I'm not exactly used to the tentacle dynamic either," she admitted breathlessly, pushing sweaty locks away from being glued to her forehead. But after some exploration and not a singular yelp of pain, they got into a sort of rhythm and Rose leaned down, her chest flush against Dave's, their sweat and saliva mixing.

"Jesus Christ—Rose—I can't believe you actually fucking dreamt yourself a tentadick," Dave panted out, his fingernails digging trenches in Rose's back. "That's such a freaky thing to do, oh my God. Oh, right there—yes!"

"It was merely curiosity," she replied, trying to mask how much she was exerting herself but her lack of oxygen betraying her.

"I just want to know how your fucking brain works." Dave whined and hooked his legs around Rose's back, bucking into her frantically. "I-I don't understand chicks—oh!"

"I don't think the, ahh, relative morphology of our corpora callosa has anything to do with—God, you're so hot—with my reasons for wanting a tentacle."

Dave opened his mouth to reply but Rose just leaned down and kissed him, their bodies arching together for a few moments more before Dave began to buck and shudder, crying out. Rose gripped his shoulders and swore in an unknown language that made Dave's mouth taste like acid and a tiny waft of dark smoke rise from her tongue. They rocked together, then, as one, their hips fell to the sheets, exhausted, chests rising and falling heavily. They lay in silence.

"Is 'case of the Mondays' code for 'horny' nowadays?" Rose asked, rolling over and curling around Dave.

"Hasn't it always been?" He smiled and encircled her in his arms.

"I suppose." They listened to each other breath for a while. "I think next time I'm going to dream up a lot more tentacles."

Dave gasped a bit, then laughed. "I don't think I would mind that."

**Author's Note:**

> My friend Nik challenged his followers to leave him sexy messages using the phrases Ars Goetia, floral imagery, case of the Mondays, tentacle dynamic, corpus callosum, and electromagnetic waves. It turned into a fanfic. (Corpora callosa is the plural of corpus callosum so it COUNTS, dammit.)


End file.
